


a safe place for all the pieces that scatter

by justalittlegreen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bossy Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Everybody Lives, Fucking, Gags, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Richie Needs To Keep His Mouth Full, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie is technically topping here, Smut, Topping from the Bottom, but not really, gagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24930523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: "That's it," he says. "You don't have to do a thing, baby. Just let me.""Yeah," Richie slurs. "Use me. Use my cock."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	a safe place for all the pieces that scatter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueerOnTilMorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/gifts).



"Just tell me what you want." Richie's voice is a little wounded, a little confused as he runs a hand through Eddie's hair. "We don't have to do anything -"

"I need you to stop talking so I can figure out exactly what I want from you," Eddie interrupts firmly, hoping his tone will calm whatever panic Richie is obviously feeling. "It's not what, it's _how_."

Richie nods over his head. Eddie closes his eyes, nuzzles the spot at Richie's neck that now smells like Eddie's soap, only so much better. He's been playing around with this for awhile in his head, in his fantasies. Just has to find a way to approach it.

He pulls away just enough to get his palms on Richie's chest and pushes him toward the bed. "Lie down."

"Yes _sir_ ," Richie says, half-sarcastic, half-earnest. "I've always had a hard-on for tiny, dictatorial men."

"Napoleon would've had a field day with your ass," Eddie says, climbing onto the bed and straddling Richie's hips. The banter isn't exactly what he wants from this, but he knows it makes Richie calmer, more in control.

Richie interlaces his fingers behind his head and wiggles his hips expectantly. "So? What now?"

Eddie looks down at him. Something's gotta go. 

"Take your shirt off," he says, lifting himself up just enough to free the hem of Richie's t-shirt. Richie complies hastily, working it over his head. Just before he throws it across the room, Eddie reaches over and grabs it from him, pulling the cotton jersey taut between his hands. He looks at Richie thoughtfully.

"Open your mouth," he says. "I think I've had enough of you talking for now."

Richie immediately tenses, his mouth opening just enough for Eddie to wedge the shirt between his teeth. "Maybe this'll teach you to do laundry more than once a month," he mutters. Richie rolls his eyes in a manner that suggests Eddie's "confusing his boner," again - a charge that gets leveled at Eddie with some fair regularity.

Eddie ignores him and makes himself busy stripping both of them - first his shirt, then Richie's pants, boxers and socks. He folds all the clothes, including the socks, and places them deliberately on the dresser. He keeps his back to Richie, waiting. Finally, after he's adjusted the folds four times and brushed ten pounds of invisible dust off the drawers, he hears it - a small, questioning, desperate sound, muffled in the cloth.

Eddie grabs the lube, gloves and condoms and tosses them onto the bed next to Richie. Richie reaches for the gloves, but Eddie slaps his hands away. 

"I didn't tell you to do that," he snaps. "That's not for you."

Richie's expression goes from confused to chagrined to wide-eyed realization in the span of two blinks. He points at the lube, then at Eddie, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Didn't I tell you tonight was about what I wanted?" Eddie asks. "Didn't you tell me I could have -" he pauses look over Richie slowly, from toes to rapidly fattening cock to blushed forehead, " - anything I desired?"

He bends over and drops a light kiss on Richie's forehead. "Is this okay?" he whispers. 

Richie nearly concusses him trying to nod. Eddie smiles. "Okay," he whispers. "I think you're going to like it."

*

He makes Richie watch. He makes him watch as he lubes up his gloved fingers, makes him watch as he works a finger, then two, into his hole, as he opens himself up. Richie watches, dark-eyed and lustful, reaching for Eddie a few times when Eddie shivers or gasps. Each time, Eddie waves him away.

"Hands to yourself," he says. "This isn't about you, remember? You're lucky I let you watch."

Richie nods, closing his eyes and exhaling long and slow. 

"Open your eyes," Eddie warns him. "I didn't say you could stop watching."

Richie's eyes snap open and Eddie smirks as Richie's cock drips against his stomach, bead after bead of precome drooling onto his skin.

Enough. Eddie eases his fingers out, methodically strips off the glove and disappears to wash his hands. He can practically hear Richie's protests over the water, but fuck, what did Richie expect, exactly? Eddie's not about to turn into a different person just because he's going to - 

The thought catches up with him, the image of him impaled on Richie's cock overwhelming enough to give him pause. True, he's never let Richie fuck him before. And true, he's a little worried about the fit, but he's also Eddie Fucking Kaspbrak, and he knows nothing if not how to properly research things like anal stretching (on a separate laptop, with a private browser, and the best security he can muster.)

When he comes back into the bedroom, Riche turns toward him. Fuck, there are actual tears on his face. Eddie tugs the fabric out of his mouth and offers him a glass of water, which Richie gulps gratefully. He opens his mouth - Eddie can practically SEE the wisecrack coming - but before he can get the words out, Eddie's tapped his upper lip with a single finger. Richie shuts his mouth.

"Do you want to be gagged again?" Eddie asks. "Or do you think you can be good?"

Richie gazes at him wordlessly. He draws his thumb and index finger across his mouth, miming a zipper. 

"Good boy," Eddie says. He means for it to come out cold and detached, but he can't keep the affection out of it. And for a moment, Richie's eyes brim again. He sits up and reaches for Eddie, pulling him into a hug, clinging to his back, his message wordless, but clear.

Eddie rubs his back, kisses the side of Richie's head.  
"You okay?" he asks again, a little anxious. 

Richie gives him a little slap on the back as if to say, "Shut the fuck up, Kaspbrak, and keep ruining me." Eddie chuckles. 

"Okay," he whispers, easing Richie back down onto his back, leaning down to kiss him, slow and deep. Once Richie is a gasping, shaking mess, he adds, "Don't get any ideas, Tozier. You're still a nellie fucking bottom no matter what the physics of the situation suggest."

That earns him a brief giggle, and then Eddie climbs back up and straddles Richie's hips once more. He takes a moment to grind against him - fuck, how is his skin so SOFT, without even the suggestion of moisturizer? - and then grabs a condom, stroking Richie as he rolls it down. 

Eddie lowers himself carefully, inch by agonizing inch, onto Richie's cock. He's seen it, of course, held it in his hands (and on one VERY drunk and memorable occasion, his mouth), memorized its dimensions and contours. But feeling Richie stretch him open teaches him things he's never noticed before.

Namely, a slew of new and unpronounceable words for _more_.

He doesn't beg or keen - that's Richie's beat - and he knows that Richie fucking him like Eddie takes him, on his back, is a long way off. Richie still needs to know he's not in charge, that he can't fuck it up as long as he does what he's told.

And ok, Eddie isn't about to relinquish the right to boss him around.

"Eds," Richie pants, and fuck, if the sound of his name coming from Richie Tozier's wrecked throat doesn't unspool him. He rocks his hips, circling them just enough to feel Richie's cock against every inch of him and permits himself a sigh, jaw hanging loose, eyes closed. Fuck, Richie is BIG. 

He feels Richie's hand tentatively wrap around his cock and closes his own hand over Richie's, guiding him through the strokes.

"That's it," he says. "You don't have to do a thing, baby. Just let me."

"Yeah," Richie slurs. "Use me. Use my cock."

Huh. So that's how he wants to play it? Eddie can make that work.

"That's right," he groans. "Gonna ride you til I'm done with you. Until you're all used up."

Richie whimpers. 

"It's ok, baby," Eddie says, forcing his voice into the calm, level tone that utterly ruins Richie when he's talking dirty. The words find him, and he doesn't even question them. "This is what you're good for, aren't you?"

Richie never comes quietly. He shouts, he grunts, sometime he cries out for Eddie. But as soon as the words are out of Eddie's mouth, Richie comes apart with an actual sob. Eddie follows moments later, spilling over both their hands, gasping Richie's name, feeling Richie's tender palm cupping his cheek as he surrenders to it.

Richie, by now, is accustomed to Eddie's obsession with cleaning up immediately post-orgasm, and doesn't complain when Eddie staggers off to the bathroom, condom in hand, and comes back with several damp towels. Richie lets himself be wiped down, but as soon as Eddie's come back from the laundry hamper, he lunges, roping Eddie into bed, and firmly tucking him against his chest, spooning him.

He knows Eds needs this as much as he needs Eddie to be just a little mean to him, the reassurance afterwards, something to counter whatever in his brain is shouting "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT!"

Eddie sleepily grabs Richie's hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing each of his fingertips, then his palm. 

"You liked that?" Eddie asks. Richie has to force himself not to slap him again.

"Eh," he says. "I mean, it could've been better." That earns him an elbow to the gut.

"Okay, okay," he says, rubbing his belly - Christ, that fucker has lethal elbows - "It was fucking amazing, Eds."

"Good," Eddie says, burrowing deeper into their shared pillow. "Because I think I like using you as my own personal sex toy."

"I think," Richie confesses in a rush, before he chickens out and doesn't say it, "I like being good for you."

Eddie pats the back of his hand. "I know, baby. You're so good for me. Now go to sleep."

Richie wants to protest, but his eyes are already closing.


End file.
